


Snow Angel

by HolyCatsAndRabbits



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale's Bookshop (Good Omens), Burning Bookshop, ButterOmens, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Ficlet, Nightmare, Other, Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-09
Updated: 2020-03-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 16:40:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/pseuds/HolyCatsAndRabbits
Summary: Good old-fashioned nightmare emotional hurt/comfort. 💕Written for theButterOmensevent on Tumblr. Follow the link for instructions, but basically the idea is to create a "draw this in your style" type post for all kinds of fanworks instead of just art. So writing, art, cosplay, anything! So if anyone wants to create anything based on this ficlet, please do!Hereis the post on Tumblr for you to tag your work onto, and also feel free to post your work as a "works inspired by" link to this fic on Ao3! I welcome all kinds of fanworks, and I set no maximum word count for fics.And, of course, everyone is welcome to start their own ButterOmens chain!Thanks so much ton0nb1narydemonandacuteangleaziraphalefor coming up with #ButterOmens!
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 232





	Snow Angel

**Author's Note:**

> BUTTER OMENS CHAIN: 
> 
> First fanwork made for Snow Angel is glorious art by Patolozka and can be seen [here](https://holycatsandrabbits.tumblr.com/post/612058361484181504/patolozka-butteromens-submission-butter)!
> 
> Second fanwork in the chain is by lyricwritesprose: ["The Path From Fire To Snow"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080645)  
>   
> Third fanwork in the chain is by WitchingWhovian: ["A Path Back Home."](https://witchingwhovian.tumblr.com/post/612149820690432000/butteromens-submission)
> 
> Fourth fanwork in the chain is by rw_eaden: ["If Only in My Dreams"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096113)
> 
> Fifth fanwork in the chain is by Aethelflaed: ["Aziraphale's Path"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111779)
> 
> Sixth fanwork in the chain is by Cassandriac: ["A Scrap of His Tartan"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23141548)
> 
> Seventh fanwork in the chain is by JoyAndOtherStories: ["Finding the Path Again"](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23150650)

Crowley knew the angel was gone. He knew it outside on the street. He knew it inside the burning bookshop. He would know it forever. But it wasn’t just the sense of loss that made him sob there, on the floor, in the flames. It was the thought of what Aziraphale had faced at the end. Had he been scared? Had it hurt? Had he wished for Crowley to save him, the way Crowley always had before? Imagining Aziraphale being alone at that moment was worse than Crowley being alone now himself.

It was hot in the burning shop, and the smoke made it hard to breathe. It was hot—and then slowly, in a oddly soft, sort of breezy way, it wasn’t. Crowley looked up and a falling snowflake lighted on his eyelash. Crowley had lost his sunglasses a while ago, and he wasn’t sure how long it had been since he’d had them off in a snowfall and had caught a snowflake just there. Another snowflake landed on his nose, and he watched them fall, filtering through the smoke, down over the flames of the shop. They should have melted. Everything was burning, books, tables, chairs, wine, everything except the snowflakes. They fell gently, and where they came to rest, they doused the flames.

They weren’t made of holy water—they were as harmless against Crowley’s skin as regular snow—but they were obviously angelic in origin. Crowley could feel that, he could see it in the way the clearing smoke revealed a soft white glow in the air, an ethereal aura. It grew brighter, until Crowley knew what was coming. He wasn’t surprised to see Aziraphale walking through the burning shop, glowing brightly, and so very, blessedly  _ cold _ in the middle of the fire. The last of the flames winked out as he passed, his bare feet taking measured steps across the floor, white robe trailing behind him, swishing in the gathering snow. His wings had a glittering look to them, like they might be made of ice crystals.

Crowley pulled up his legs and rested his head on his knees, looking at the angel sideways. Even with the new perspective, Aziraphale remained.

“Did I crack finally?” Crowley asked. “My nightmares can’t even hold together anymore? Guess I don’t care, if you’re in this dream now.”

Aziraphale looked worried and compassionate and sad. “Let’s not stay here, my dear,” he said softly, holding out his hand. “Care for a walk in the park?”

Crowley shrugged, but he stood up and took Aziraphale’s hand. The angel’s skin felt soft and cold against Crowley’s heated fingers. Their next steps were on the path at St. James Park, and the snow fell down around them even faster now.

“Oh, you look better already,” Aziraphale said with a pleased smile. “Here, darling, let me see to you.” He waved a hand and Crowley found himself in clean clothes with no holes burned in them, light fabric that hardly protected him from the welcome cold of the snow. He still had no sunglasses, and snowflakes landed on his eyelashes again. Aziraphale twined their fingers together more tightly and leaned his head on Crowley’s shoulder. His left wing curled around Crowley, a physical representation of the angelic aura that was completely surrounding him.

They walked for a few minutes, and Crowley felt himself gradually calm. His breathing slowed and his steps grew more sure, black boots on the snowy path beside Aziraphale’s bare feet. Crowley’s heart kept racing, of course, but what else could it possibly do when Aziraphale was holding his hand?

All was well until Aziraphale gave him an adorably hopeful look and said, “Darling, do you think you’re ready to wake up now?”

Crowley missed a step and stumbled, nearly tramping on Aziraphale’s foot. He tightened his grip on the angel’s hand. “I’m not leaving,” Crowley said forcefully. “If you’re here, I’m not leaving. I’m going to sleep for the next century.”

Aziraphale looked amused. “Oh, I’d rather you didn’t, my dear. I’d miss you terribly.”

Crowley wavered a little, and Aziraphale reached out his other hand to steady him. “Aziraphale?” Crowley breathed. “Are you  _ actually here?  _ In my dream?”

“For the moment, yes. But I’m afraid that I need to open the shop shortly, so—”

Blackness washed over Crowley’s eyes.  _ “Don’t leave.” _

Aziraphale frowned in concern, but he also looked determined, and as strong as Crowley had ever seen him. “Let’s try something,” Aziraphale said. “Can you feel me holding your hand?”

Crowley looked down at where their fingers were clasped together. “Yeah.”

“All right. Now do something for me, dear. Let go.” To say that Crowley didn’t want to do that was a terrible understatement, but it was difficult for him to deny Aziraphale when he—well, it was difficult for him to deny Aziraphale anything ever, really. It was clear which one of them was the better tempter. Reluctantly, Crowley let the angel pull away.

“Now,” Aziraphale said softly, “can you still feel me there?”

“I—” Crowley looked down at his empty hand. Somehow, he didn’t feel the wind against his skin, and the falling snow diverted around his fingers as if something was in its way. There was the faintest feeling of Aziraphale’s hand still caught up with his.

“I’m holding your hand in the waking world,” Aziraphale told him. Crowley met his eyes in confusion and Aziraphale smiled at him. “I know you only trust one person, Crowley, but it’s me. I won’t lead you astray. Wake up into my arms, darling. Please.”

Despite his terror, Crowley closed his eyes and felt himself jump, throwing away the dream, the vision of Aziraphale as a sparkling creature of blessed cold and ice, leaping into the unknown and not sure if he’d be caught.

When he opened his eyes, Aziraphale was still there. Crowley’s entire body was folded up on the angel’s lap, with Aziraphale’s arms and wings wrapped around him.

“Welcome back,” Aziraphale said, with a very relieved smile. 

Crowley took a couple of shuddering breaths, and Aziraphale soothed him through them, rubbing a hand against his back. 

“Guess I was the one to leave this time,” Crowley whispered, weary and almost ashamed.

Aziraphale kissed him softly, on the lips and then on the forehead. “Doesn’t matter, darling. Wherever you are, I’ll come to you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Comments and kudos are so appreciated! And please feel free to check out my other works.  
> I am now taking fic requests for your original characters!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/holycatsandrabbits)  
> Twitter [@DannyeChase](https://twitter.com/DannyeChase)  
> Facebook [Dannye Chase](https://facebook.com/DannyeChase)  
> and Instagram [dannye_chase](https://www.instagram.com/dannye_chase/)

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [The Path From Fire To Snow](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23080645) by [lyricwritesprose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lyricwritesprose/pseuds/lyricwritesprose)
  * [If Only In My Dreams](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096113) by [rw_eaden](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rw_eaden/pseuds/rw_eaden)
  * [Aziraphale's Path](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23111779) by [Lady of Prompts (Aethelflaed)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aethelflaed/pseuds/Lady%20of%20Prompts)




End file.
